


Just Rewards

by ErinDarroch, suezahn



Series: Kismet [1]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Episode V: Empire Strikes Back, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: ErinDarroch, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Force-Sensitive Leia Organa, Friendship/Love, Love, Male-Female Friendship, Post-Star Wars: A New Hope, Pre-Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Relationship(s), Romance, Romantic Angst, Romantic Friendship, Science Fiction, Serricci, Space Opera, Susan Zahn, Sweet, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Yavin 4, suezahn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:49:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5952619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinDarroch/pseuds/ErinDarroch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/suezahn/pseuds/suezahn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If money is all that you love, then that's what you'll receive." Co-authored with ErinDarroch. Part of suezahn's Kismet series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The War Room

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters depicted herein are the property of Lucasfilm, Disney, etc. Our only profit is in the form of readers' feedback. Please be generous!
> 
> Time Frame: Extension and expansion of Star Wars: A New Hope; during and post-ANH
> 
> With thanks to our lovely beta readers: CorieMariee, BonesBooth206, YellinYee, and Marjorie Joyce.
> 
> If you're familiar with the rest of the older Kismet series, please note that the OC name Kristin Aldritch = Keris Aldric now. The name was changed to sound less "Earthy" but the character remains the same.

For them to perceive the advantage of defeating the enemy, they must also have their rewards.  
—Sun Tzu

* * *

 

"Yahooo! You're all clear, kid!"

The unexpected voice, new and loud and boisterous, made every head within the tense Rebel war room, hidden within the ancient Massassi temple on Yavin IV, jerk up then pivot around in an attempt to pinpoint the intrusion. But the rowdy call had originated from the same intercom speakers channeling frantic messages of Alliance fighter pilots mid-battle as they fought off the Imperial TIE fighters swarming to protect the approaching _Death Star_.

"Now let's blow this thing and go home!"

Princess Leia Organa, intently watching the mesmerizing holographic plotting table as glowing icons of combatants swirled in their fatal dance, suddenly felt dizzy and gripped the table's edge; time seemed to stop while the oddest sensation of ringing filled her ears.

General Dodonna was the first to officially respond. He pointed at his chief of communications, a female officer standing across the expanse of the plotting table from him. "Lieutenant Aldric, update our encryption code now! And then find out who just broke into our—"

"No, wait!" Leia interrupted, overcoming her initial shock at the unexpected rally cry. Standing beside the general, she grabbed the old man by his arm and looked up into his bearded face, unable to restrain the sudden rush of energy and hope that coursed through her. "That's Captain Solo! He's come back!"

The general drew a breath, taking a moment to gauge the likelihood of her claim and the state of things in the battle portrayed on the virtual panels around them. "Very well, if you're certain, Your Highness. Lieutenant, cancel that order."

"Yes, sir. I'll still follow up with how he broke into our frequency."

"There's no need. Solo was at the mission briefing and…." Dodonna broke off as the table before him erupted in a flash of light as the dominating globe representing the _Death Star_ suddenly flickered then disappeared. Alarmed, he glanced back to Aldric. "Lieutenant?"

"Checking now, sir!...It's—it's gone!"

"Gone?"

"Great shot, kid!" Captain Solo's raucous voice rang out again, filling the room with its unrestrained cheer. "That was one in a million!"

Realization set in and a wave of visible relief swept over everyone in the war room.

"They did it!" Disbelief at this second respite from imminent death left Leia giddy and she grasped the table edge once more to keep from collapsing in a heap. The adrenaline rush she'd been riding ever since the moment the trio of Corellian smuggler, Tatooine moisture farmer, and an oddly timid Wookiee had broken her out of that Imperial detention cell cut off with a suddenness that left her trembling. "Dear Goddess, they did it!"

"It's over, at least for now," the general announced as he bowed his grayed head and paused to be alone with his own thoughts.

Leia remained beside the general, barely noticing the continued chatter of the staff surrounding them, her emotions and thoughts a jumbled mess.

"Your Highness," Dodonna spoke up again as he looked at her. "I would appreciate it if you would join me in debriefing Red Squadron and Captain Solo and his crew when they return. Perhaps something in their feedback would prove useful for you in your capacity as acting military intelligence leader, and you could help me in vetting our newcomers."

"Of course, General," Leia agreed. "I don't know very much about them yet, other than their obvious contributions today, but I can certainly be a character witness to their behavior under fire. I can also start profiles on each of them and initiate the usual background checks."

"Excellent, thank you."

After a few more moments, the general became busy with another task, and Leia couldn't remain still any longer. "I'll be down on the flight deck."

She barely registered Dodonna's acknowledgement as she rushed for the exit and into the narrow stone corridor beyond.


	2. The Hangar Bay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to our lovely beta readers: CorieMariee, BonesBooth206, YellinYee, and Marjorie Joyce.

_So much for decorum, Leia._

Like a broken holodisk, the scene kept replaying in Leia's mind: Her pushing through the gathering of flight deck crews and other base personnel, and launching herself at Luke Skywalker like he was the greatest of old friends, so lost in the sheer joy of their miraculous success that she couldn't stop cheering. Then she'd done the same to the roguish Captain Solo as well, not caring who was watching or what they might think as she playfully teased him with that knowing jab about his mercenary instincts. He'd hugged her back, also too caught up in the moment to bother with refuting her accusation.

As some of the initial jubilation began to die down, Leia's habitual reserve had begun to reemerge. Her mood turned pensive and she withdrew to one side to observe as Skywalker, Solo, and the Wookiee continued with their playful congratulations, rehashing climactic moments for the ground staff that remained mobbed around them.

She was struck by the stark difference in how empty the massive hangar felt now compared to less than a standard hour before, when multiple flight groups were scrambling to launch their attack. What remained of Red Flight and the _Millennium Falcon_ had returned from the battle, but the empty spaces spoke of the painful casualties and material losses suffered. They'd won the battle, but the cost was dear, nearly wiping out this Rebel cell's complement of X-wings and Y-wings, along with their crews. That sobering thought was the primary reason for her sense of deflation, she realized, but she was also suddenly self-conscious about her own behavior. She'd never been given to open displays of strong emotion and, even though she recognized that her unguarded glee had been entirely warranted, on reflection, she felt slightly uncomfortable with it.

Looking over at the grinning, jostling, laughing pilots and other personnel still happily exulting over their shared victory, Leia's gaze fell on the tall, lean figure of Han Solo. To her eye, the Corellian looked as elated as any of the other revelers; his beaming smile, hearty laugh, and enthusiastic participation in the post-battle banter made him look like a member of the team, just another Rebel successfully recruited to the cause. He had no love for the Empire, that much had become obvious, and he seemed genuinely delighted to have played a part in dealing them such a severe blow.

Leaning idly against a nearby freight cart as she continued to study him, Leia pondered over the smuggler's apparent change of heart. Before the attack on the _Death Star_ , his scathing opinion of the proposed mission had been made crystal clear, and his desire to get as far away as possible from the Alliance equally so. All of that talk about the monetary reward being the only thing he was interested in had been patently false, Leia realized—a deliberate misdirection on Solo's part. He'd made a point of ensuring that everyone, including Luke and especially herself, had understood his position. He'd claimed stridently and often that his personal interests were his only concern, and that money was all that he desired. But watching him now, Leia could see that his claims covered up a deeper truth, some other motivation that, for some reason, he desired to keep hidden. She suspected he might not even know himself.

_I haven't figured out what motivates you yet, Solo, but I will._

With a glance at the towering Wookiee at Solo's side, Leia considered whether his hairy friend had anything to do with his shift in attitude and the decision to turn the _Falcon_ around and save the day. Some little niggling sense, nothing more than a feeling, told her that Chewbacca did indeed hold a different opinion than his friend on how much the two of them should get involved. In their uniting to escape the _Death Star_ , the pair had proven to her their usefulness as allies in a fight, and she wondered if it would be possible now, in the aftermath of their significant contribution to the effort, to talk them into sticking around and accompanying her—or to be more accurate this particular cell of the Rebellion—to the new base on Serricci.

The possibility of Han Solo officially joining the Rebellion sparked a strange emotion in Leia's breast. For a fleeting moment, her ardent political activism gave way to a fluttering sensation that she couldn't quite name and made her squirm. She recalled every moment of their brief acquaintance, including the bitter exchange in the cockpit of the _Falcon_ when she'd openly derided his blatant, self-serving greed.

"You needn't worry about your reward," she'd told him in an acid tone. "If money is all that you love, then that's what you'll receive."

With pleasure, she had seen that shot hit home, and glimpsed a flicker of something other than avarice or antagonism in Solo's changeable eyes. It was an uncertain expression, the first such she'd ever seen on his face, and the memory of that moment gave her a feeling of deep satisfaction. As she'd exited the cockpit, she'd snapped off another laser bolt in his direction by way of a bitter comment to Luke.

"Your friend is quite a mercenary. I wonder if he really cares about anything…or anybody."

That snipe attack, too, she suspected, had found its mark. She liked to think that her goading comments had gone some way towards eroding Solo's cocky self-centeredness and, perhaps, had led to his surprise appearance at the end of the recent battle. At least, she hoped that they had. _Good,_ she thought. _He needs to rethink his priorities._

But even as she reflected on Solo's less admirable qualities, she had to acknowledge the faint quiver of another emotion that seemed to accompany her every thought about the smuggler. Reluctantly, she admitted to herself that she found him exciting, intriguing, and—frankly—attractive. But in the same instant that thought took flight, she shot it down. _Grow up, Leia. We are at war._

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the turn her thoughts had taken, Leia gave herself a mental shake. Whatever the cause of Solo's reversal, she was profoundly grateful for it. The smugglers' well-timed intervention had saved Luke's life and enabled the young pilot to make the crucial hit that had destroyed the _Death Star_. In the end, _that_ was the most important fact that she knew about Han Solo; his decision to lend his aid in their time of need had saved the lives of everyone on the base, and had very possibly changed the course of the war. And it was that choice, more than anything else, which fueled her renewed desire to recruit him and his Wookiee friend to her cause.

Stirring from her reverie, Leia noticed that the boisterous crowd around Luke and Han was dispersing as the troops began the task of emergency evacuation and the other Command staff returned to the War Room. Leia straightened up and smoothed the folds of her not-so-white gown, conscious of the state of her appearance and the fact that her elaborate hairstyle was beginning to wilt around her face. Her mood of elation now completely deflated, she felt it was time to recover her decorum.

Remembering General Dodonna's request for her to participate in the standard procedure of debriefing the combatants, Leia summoned her most dignified demeanor as she stepped back into the thinning circle and cleared her throat before speaking.

"All right, gentlemen," she called in a loud voice, straining to be heard over the continuing babble of the handful of excited voices that remained. She waited for their attention to turn to her and then said, "We have a debriefing to attend. It's time to move. Let's go."


	3. The Debriefing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to our lovely beta readers: CorieMariee, BonesBooth206, YellinYee, and Marjorie Joyce.

The small stone-lined chamber that served as their debriefing room was dominated by an old and battered table. Dodonna and Leia had chosen to sit beside one another on one side of the table, with another member of the Command staff seated at a portable computer station behind them, while the Red Flight survivors and _Millennium Falcon_ crew sat across the table from them.

Ultimately, there wasn't much to report of the battle itself. With the _Death Star_ completely destroyed and most of the crews killed in action, details had been limited to what had been witnessed by Luke and Wedge Antilles in the remaining X-wings, and pilot Seth Adala and copilot/gunner Erol Selor in the single Y-wing. As each of the other men finished their reports, they were dismissed, until only Luke and Han and Chewbacca remained.

Luke was just wrapping up his own statement: "…and then Wedge was hit and I told him to get out while he could, that he wasn't able to help anymore. I thought I was alone out there, until I heard Han tell me I was all clear. Then I made my shot."

Leia watched as Luke exchanged a friendly glance with the two smugglers, his expression full of gratitude. "Han and Chewie handled that Imperial pilot who took out the rest of my squad. The one that would have gotten me, too, if they hadn't turned up."

Solo, for his part, had been respectfully quiet throughout, keeping whatever thoughts he was having to himself, but at this point he shifted forward in his chair a little and spoke up. "That TIE pilot was good. Better than the average. He stuck to the kid's tail like a Gnasher right to the end, when I hit one of his wingman. The other one panicked and clipped the leader, then he spun out of the trench."

Dodonna nodded thoughtfully. "Do you think he survived the hit?"

Solo shrugged dismissively, as Leia resumed taking notes. "No idea," the Corellian said. "I lost sight of him while guarding Luke's tail. But it doesn't matter. Short-range craft like that, with no hyperdrive? And his base just got blown to hell? If he survived the blast, he's got nowhere to go but this moon."

Dodonna turned and gestured to the staffer who was seated just behind his chair. She leaned in to hear his quiet directive, then nodded and stepped away to begin keying information into a nearby workstation. Then he turned back to Solo. "Normally we'd send out a team to track him down if possible, but considering our current situation, we don't have the time or manpower to spare. I'll pass along the information, though, for Security to be on the lookout in case he lands nearby."

Dodonna returned his attention to Luke and got straight to his next point, the lingering mystery among the War Room staff who'd listened to the battle unfold. "Skywalker, why did you switch off your targeting computer?"

"Oh, that." Luke took just a moment to look a little nerfish, then offered a modest shrug, a gesture that Leia was quickly coming to recognize as one of his most characteristic traits. "I decided to use the Force to guide my shot instead. The targeting computer wasn't enough."

Skywalker might just as well have dropped a stun grenade in the tiny room; the effect was much the same as if he had, as the rest of the occupants stared at him in shock and disbelief. Leia scanned the room, noting Solo's somewhat pained expression and the looks of confusion or mild amusement on some of the other faces. It was an understandable reaction in light of the fact that the Jedi were considered extinct. Nobody had taken seriously Luke's claims of wanting to become a Jedi Knight, despite the fact he'd managed to find a lightsaber somewhere and kept it clipped to his waist.

Dodonna allowed the moment to linger, then asked, "Is that your official explanation?"

"It's what happened, sir."

"Very well." Dodonna tipped his head and nodded to Leia, indicating she should document it. Then he looked back up and directed his attention to the _Falcon_ 's crew.

"Captain Solo, I feel safe in speaking for everyone by saying that we owe you and your copilot a debt of gratitude for your decision to join the battle. Your timely return saved us all."

Han gave a quick nod of his head in acceptance and the Wookiee made a similar gesture.

"In fact, I'm hoping this means that you now intend to stay on to join in our fight. Your insight about that TIE fighter shows you're familiar with Imperial spacecraft, and we could use your continued help. If you stay on, we'd be pleased to offer you a commission with a rank of Commander, same as we've done for Commander Skywalker here."

Leia's tentative hopes faded as she watched the Corellian's demeanor visibly change from almost amiable to willfully stubborn, as if a shadow had moved over his mobile face. "Don't bother, General. I don't plan on sticking around."

Chewbacca picked that moment to growl something in his own tongue, but there was no protocol droid present, and the dirty look Han shot his copilot made it clear there would be no translation forthcoming.

"I didn't do this for a commission, and I'm not interested in your Rebellion," Han added, as if he'd felt the need for more clarification.

Frustrated by his apparent backslide, Leia barely contained a snort and tapped her stylus on her datapad in irritation _. Really, we're back to this again?_

General Dodonna beat her to the obvious question, however. "If it wasn't for the Rebellion, then why _did_ you come back?"

Leia noticed with interest that Han's eyes flickered in her direction before his customary smirk fell into place. "No reason," Solo shrugged. "Call it temporary insanity. Maybe I've spent too much time with you fanatics already, and some of it has rubbed off."

She spotted a gap in his armor and decided to poke at it. "But you'd already received your reward. In fact, you'd already departed. There must have been _some_ reason you decided to turn back."

Han directed a glare at her that only confirmed she'd effectively pinned him this time. She might have felt almost gleeful were she not so annoyed by his reverting back to his callous mercenary act.

Before he could formulate what was likely to be an acidic response, they were interrupted by the sound of the base's public address system crackling to life. "Red Flight, report to the Command Center…Red Flight, report to the Command Center."

Skywalker looked to the General for guidance and Dodonna held up his hand. "We're nearly finished here, and then you can go. I needed to inform you—all of you—about a directive I've received from High Command."

Leia felt her own eyebrows rise in curiosity, while she watched Solo's face pinch up even more.

"This was a significant battle today," Dodonna continued. "It wasn't something we'd anticipated so soon, but through hard work, sacrifice, and a bit of luck, we've managed to deliver a severe blow to the Empire's military might and prestige. Mon Mothma and the rest of High Command have decided that we must capitalize on this opportunity. To that end, there will be a ceremony featuring everyone who took part, with particular honors going to the three of you for your roles in making it possible. And they would like you, Your Highness, to present the awards. Their plan is to broadcast this throughout the galaxy before the Empire can muffle the news."

Feeling shocked and appalled by the announcement, Leia looked around at the others, all of them comrades-in-arms whom she already considered friends of a sort. The last thing she wanted was to be made into some sort of tragic icon, told to perform in some spectacle of public propaganda advertising the unspeakable horrors of her loss—a loss she hadn't even begun to absorb yet.

Luke, however, was already sliding from surprise into obvious excitement. He was nearly bouncing in his seat now, although Leia couldn't guess whether that was approval for this plan or simple anxiousness to answer the call for Red Flight.

_Probably both. He just likes being involved. It hasn't even occurred to him what ramifications could result._

"Sure, count me in!" Luke said with enthusiasm.

Her eyes moved to Solo next and found no subtlety there either; his expression had morphed into a dark mask of sullen anger. "No."

Leia felt just an instant's worth of approval for Solo's curt reaction. _Maybe he's just as disgusted as I am?_

Dodonna responded in a patient tone. "I can understand your reluctance, Captain, but this is important. A public display of this sort could make the difference in battles to come. It could boost morale and increase recruitment of troops and materials. It's vital we put faces to this victory to show the galaxy we can win this war. That we _must_ win this war."

Han was shaking his head the entire time, his frown growing deeper with each second. "Absolutely not. I'm not interested in your revolution. You might as well stick a target on my back. No reward is worth that."

Without waiting to be dismissed, Solo surged out of his chair and marched out of the room. Chewbacca slowly rose to his feet, gave the rest of them what Leia suspected was the Wookiee equivalent of an apologetic look, then lumbered after his partner.

"That's disappointing," the General said as he turned to Leia.

All she could do was sigh in return. She'd hoped that maybe some sense of duty or lingering altruism might continue to motivate Captain Solo, but the sad truth was that he really was under no obligation to continue assisting.

"I really don't get him," Luke said in what sounded like genuine bafflement. "Should I go talk to him?"

Leia shook her head. "No. No, I'll let him cool down and then do it myself."


	4. The Women's Barracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Kristin Aldritch = Keris Aldric now. The original name has been changed to sound less "Earthy" but the character remains the same.
> 
> With thanks to our lovely beta readers: CorieMariee, BonesBooth206, YellinYee, and Marjorie Joyce.

The women's barracks occupied a large chamber within the ancient and massive Massassi temple but was little more than a few rows of stacked bunks with individual storage crates bracketing each stack and a short row of temporary freshers in a far corner. For the first time since arriving on the _Millennium Falcon_ following her harrowing escape from the _Death Star_ , Leia had a few spare minutes, and she'd used them to find the space she'd been assigned. Not that she would have the opportunity to use the bed for its intended purpose—the evacuation was in progress and this area would be dismantled and packed for shipping off-planet before the evening was over. Although she was new to the base personnel and had no official duties assigned yet, she'd been caught up in the commotion all the same. Escaping to the barracks was an admission of her own physical and emotional exhaustion. She desperately needed some time alone to gather her thoughts, and wasn't looking forward to yet another confrontation with Captain Solo, something that was already becoming a bit wearying. Begging was not in her nature.

Leia moved down the central aisle of the cool stone-walled room and stopped beside the bunk temporarily labeled as hers. It was nondescript and promised nothing in the way of great comfort, but she nonetheless gazed longingly at the thin, gray fabric-covered gel mattress.

_If I had anything left to give, I'd gladly do so for just one hour. That's all I ask…._

Before she could succumb to the growing temptation of testing out the bed, she heard quiet footsteps and turned to recognize one of the Command Center technicians approaching. It was almost like looking in a mirror, if Leia could imagine herself ten years older. The uniformed woman was roughly Leia's height and build, and her long hair was neatly wound up in a simple bun at the base of her neck.

"Your Highness? I hope I'm not interrupting you."

"No, I was just thinking…. It's Lieutenant Aldric, correct?"

"Yes, but you can call me Keris."

The woman reached out a hand and Leia shook it in greeting, offering a warm smile in return. "Please, call me Leia."

One of the woman's fine eyebrows rose, as if she were caught off guard by the informality, before she made a slight bow. "Thanks. Looks like we're bunk-mates. That is, we _would_ have been…."

Leia nodded again. "Yes, although it doesn't seem I'll be using it any time soon."

"No, not on this base, anyway. I was just stopping here to make sure my things are secured before it's all taken to the transports." She grabbed the pair of boots that were sitting atop her personal crate and stashed them inside, then locked down the lid. Straightening up, she looked back to Leia and paused, eyeing the poor state of Leia's senatorial gown, so worn and stained that even the quick run through the autovalet on-board the _Falcon_ earlier hadn't been able to do much. It was probably beyond salvage. _Not that I'll ever need it again_ , Leia thought.

"Have they issued you any personal effects yet?"

"No, there wasn't any time," Leia answered.

The lieutenant made a _tsk_ sound, then bent down to reopen her case. "Tell you what. I guess we're about the same size. I've got some extra things you can use until we're settled at the next base. Then you'll be able to get your own things."

"That's very kind, thank you."

"Don't mention it. There's not a lot to go around, but you'll find we tend to look out for one another and we're pretty resourceful, particularly us girls. Share the wealth, as they say. Here, take these." She handed over a set of general-issue Rebellion fatigues made up of gray and moss green pants and a long-sleeved top, a set of undergarments, and a pair of socks to go along with the spare boots she'd pulled back out. As an afterthought, she up-ended the contents of a small duffle bag into her storage case, tossed a handful of hair care and hygiene items into the bag, and gave it to Leia. "There. That should tide you over."

"I'm very grateful," Leia said, and meant it. It hadn't struck her until now just how destitute she'd suddenly become. She'd arrived on Yavin IV as a refugee with nothing but what she wore, all of which had seen better days. That abruptly reminded her of something. "I hate to ask this, but…would you or one of the other women possibly have something a bit more…dressy? I don't mean to sound ungrateful—I'm perfectly happy with the uniform. But there's going to be a medal ceremony in a couple of hours and…."

Keris's reaction to that news was predictable—surprise and disbelief. "We have the time to spare?"

Leia barely refrained from rolling her eyes in complete agreement, but now wasn't the time to show insubordination. Pressing ahead, she said, "I've been asked to present. They'll expect me to…." Leia's voice trailed off, feeling that surge of anger returning at being manipulated into such a position, at feeling used without even being consulted first, without consideration for the emotional toll she was already struggling with.

 _They'll expect me to_ what _? Look like a princess? Pose as the new figurehead of the Rebellion?_

"I see. Well…," Keris considered for a long moment, looking at Leia as though she might be worried about why Leia had dropped off mid-sentence. She nodded by way of assurance. "I don't have anything like that, but I think I know someone who does. Let me see what I can do."

"Anything would be appreciated. I'm in your debt."

As Leia watched the lieutenant turn and disappear into the outer corridor, she drew a deep breath and blew it out in resignation. She could think of no other task or errand to delay the necessary meeting with Han Solo, but it was not a conversation that she felt confident about. Shoving the borrowed clothing into the duffel bag, Leia eyed the bunk one last time, then headed over to the freshers in the far corner to change her clothes, giving herself another few minutes at least.


	5. The Millennium Falcon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to our lovely beta readers: CorieMariee, BonesBooth206, YellinYee, and Marjorie Joyce.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," Han snarled as he left Chewbacca in the main hold of the _Millennium Falcon_ and headed down the cockpit access corridor.

«You're not making much sense, Solo.»

" _Sense_?! Where's the sense in advertising to the rest of the galaxy how we helped blow up the _Death Star_?"

Han had hoped his final pronouncement would deter the Wookiee from following any further, but he was disabused of that notion when he found no refuge after dropping into his pilot's seat. Chewie entered the cockpit and came to a stop, standing behind and to the side where he could continue with his patented _disapproving elder_ stare.

«What is done is done. Word will spread anyway. We might as well do it, and it _would_ help them. You're just being stubborn.»

"No, for the first time in a long time, I'm being smart! I never should have taken that stupid charter from Tatooine in the first place."

«You don't mean that. Not after what you saw today. You know what's at stake.»

Han grimaced with that gut-wrenching reminder. In frustration, he resorted to his old habit of poking at the instruments on the control dashboard in front of him rather than try to deny his partner's truth. What he'd seen today, of obliterated planets and inexplicable evil and bravery against impossible odds, had indeed made an impact. But that was over now. He was done being the hero. He would leave that to Luke, who clearly yearned for the role.

When he finally looked up again and out the forward cockpit canopy, it was just in time to spot a petite figure in Rebel-issue clothes emerge from a distant stone archway and into the hangar bay. Were it not for those rather odd and highly visible double-buns of hair, he might have failed to recognize the Princess. Well, no, that wasn't quite true—he'd already become familiar with her distinctive all-business stride. And she was currently advancing toward the far corner of the flight deck where the _Millennium Falcon_ sat, although there was perhaps a little less energy in her step than usual.

"Great, just what I needed."

Tracking her progress across the hangar, Han's scowl deepened with every step she took. As she eventually passed under the overhanging edge of the _Falcon_ and disappeared from view, he heard the sound of her boots on the boarding ramp and then echoing on the deck plates. He waited, glowering, debating whether or not to be angry that she'd boarded his ship without permission. He had no doubt she planned to try to press him into attending the awards ceremony. But minutes passed and it became apparent that the young woman had bypassed the corridor to the cockpit and was instead wandering elsewhere in his ship. Spinning in his chair, he started to go in search of her, but then changed his mind and dropped back down.

_She can come to me. I'll be damned if I'll go to her._

Several minutes later, Han was still waiting and his patience was at an end. Annoyed that she was rattling around loose in his ship, he climbed out of his chair and marched back down the short corridor and into the main hold. He found the princess seated on the bench that wrapped around the old holochess table. He was ready to launch into a stern lecture on showing some respect for private property, and how the _Falcon_ was not an Alliance asset, but something in her demeanor stopped him cold. She was huddled over the tabletop, head bent down and her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her elaborate hairstyle was fraying at the edges, and there was no mistaking the aura of sheer exhaustion that radiated from her. For a second he didn't know what to do, torn between asking what was wrong or just turning on his booted heel and walking away. Of course it didn't take a Jedi Ancient to figure out what was bothering her, to know what was wrong. He'd flown through the debris just that morning.

_You're probably going to hate yourself later for this._

"Hey," Han said in a moderated tone, intending only to get her attention. It worked and she lifted her head and looked up at him, her expression weary and guarded. "You know, it's considered common courtesy in some circles to ask for permission before boarding a privately owned ship."

The princess didn't take the bait. Instead, she sighed and dropped one arm onto the table while propping a temple on the other fist. "We need to talk, Han."

The combination of her tempered voice and use of his first name was disarming.

_Yeah, you're regretting this already._

"If you're going to try to talk me into that charade, don't bother."

"We're willing to pay you."

Han's mouth dropped open before he could recover. "I don't want your Sithin' credits!"

"Really?" she replied archly. "Well, then, what _would_ tempt you?"

If that was some sort of proposition, it was the least convincing one he'd ever heard, and he'd heard a few. For some reason he'd already formed the idea that she was better than this, better than the average, conniving politician, but now he was starting to wonder if she was perhaps the _epitome_ of a politician, especially gifted in the art of reading and manipulating people. That possibility made him uncomfortable.

"This ain't about me, Princess. I can't believe you're going along with this. Can't you see what's happening here? They're _using_ you!"

"Of _course_ I can see that!" she retorted, for the first time displaying some real anger and disgust, although he couldn't tell if it was directed at him or at those putting her in this position. "Do you think I'm a fool? But this is important. I _have_ to help. If I don't, everything that's happened here will amount to nothing. This battle will be buried and the Empire will move on to eventually crush us, and Alderaan will be just another bloody little footnote that nobody reads…." Her voice cracked on that last bit and she abruptly got to her feet. "It's no use. Clearly I was wrong about you."

She made to step around him and toward the exit ramp, but he moved into her path to stop her, not willing to let her leave with that loaded comment hanging in the air.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She planted herself on the deck and met his eyes, without wavering, for the first time since she'd come aboard. "You keep saying that you don't care about the rebellion against the Empire. And you already had your reward, so it wasn't about the money. That makes me wonder, Captain. Why _did_ you come back?"

Like a skilled surgeon, she'd cut right to the heart of the problem. He'd _had_ no good excuse, other than a sudden attack of conscience, a surge of guilt at flying off to leave these hopeless romantics to their demise—a surprisingly vicious worry that had seized him when he'd thought about what would happen to Luke, and to her. No excuse at all.

When Han's long silence made it obvious that she wasn't going to get an answer, she shook her head and started walking around him again. "You drive me crazy."

Chewbacca, who had followed Han into the hold, spoke up. «I would like to participate, Princess. I'm proud that I helped.»

Before Han could berate his partner, Leia stopped once more and pointed at the towering Wookiee. "I want to know what Chewbacca's saying."

Han threw up his hands in exasperation, feeling like they were ganging up on him now. "You know what? Fine! Go get your medal, buddy, but you're on your own."

Leia cast a glance up at the Wookiee, her expression brightening.

"So you'll come to the ceremony, Chewbacca?"

Chewie nodded and bared his fangs at her in the Wookiee equivalent to a broad smile, which she warmly returned.

Han glared from one of his companions to the other, then swung around and stomped away toward the bunkroom to stew.

_That's just great. A nice speech and a pretty smile, and Chewie's already marching in their parade._


	6. The Ceremony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Kristin Aldritch = Keris Aldric now. The original name has been changed to sound less "Earthy" but the character remains the same.
> 
> With thanks to our lovely beta readers: CorieMariee, BonesBooth206, YellinYee, and Marjorie Joyce.

Leia stood in one of the largish prefab fresher units of the women's barracks, pausing one last time to check her reflection in the half-length mirror. The elegant white dress Lieutenant Aldric had scrounged up was surprisingly pretty and flattering, although the deep and wide neckline was a bit more revealing than Leia would normally wear in public. But this was not the time to be picky. They'd also managed to find a simple set necklace, bracelet and waist belt that worked well enough to break up the white. She'd opted for a relatively simple but elegant hair style, with a partial wrap of braided hair at the top to form the semblance of a crown that allowed the bulk of it to fall out of the way in a single long braid down her back. She'd picked the style to serve as a reminder to the audience of who she was—or to be more accurate, who she had been. It was all about the message tonight. The symbolism.

She gazed into the mirror for a moment longer, taking one last private opportunity to see her true self before donning the persona demanded of her. Her new and careful application of makeup might be good enough for the holocams that would focus on her, but it couldn't hide from her own critical eye the emotions roiling inside.

_But I'm not the target of tonight's performance, am I?_

There was a quiet knock on her fresher door. "Princess, the troops are assembled." It was Keris outside, keeping her apprised of the time remaining before the ceremony would begin. "Ten minutes."

With a last sigh, Leia pushed open the door and stepped out.

"Sometimes I'm truly amazed by what we can find," the lieutenant said with a genuine smile. "You look fantastic, Your Highness."

"Leia," she gently corrected.

"Not tonight," Keris responded matter-of-factly. "You'll be _Leia_ again soon enough. Come on, I'll show you to the stage."

Moments later the two of them arrived just outside the front entrance to the main assembly chamber. Luke's two droids were already out on the stage, along with the rest of the Command staff; only General Dodonna was waiting at the passage for them. The noise of hundreds of Rebels just inside, not yet called to attention, was like the steady roar along a beach. For the first time in years, since her very first public appearance as a child, Leia felt the urge to run.

_Is this really a precedent I want to set?_

Keris checked the chrono around her wrist. "Five minutes. Ready?"

Leia nodded, remaining silent as she ran through the rehearsed steps they'd worked out earlier. She was relieved there would be no speech tonight. This was about making a memorable image, something High Command could easily add their own narrative to afterward. Which was just as well since she wasn't entirely sure she could maintain her composure for anything more.

"Two minutes."

Suddenly there was a soft chiming from the communicator attached to the lieutenant's belt. Keris turned away slightly and lifted it to her ear, then turned back to them, her eyes widened. "There's been a change."

"A change?" Leia asked.

"It's not just Commander Skywalker and the Wookiee. Captain Solo is with them."

Leia and Dodonna exchanged looks, his of confusion and hers of surprise, and something far more complex.

"But we've only manufactured two medals for tonight," Dodonna stated, clearly a little put out by the Corellian's continued unpredictability. This time it threatened to cause an awkward moment, at best, and a serious galactic public relations disaster at worst.

"Hold on." Keris stated, holding up a finger indicating they should wait while she talked into the mic. "Tell them we only have two medals prepared."

Leia watched with intense concentration as they waited for a response.

 _Dear Goddess,_ please _do not make him change his mind again!_

"Copy that." The lieutenant shut off her communicator and smiled. "No worries. Chewbacca says to give it to Solo, since it was his decision as Captain to help."

Leia slowly released the breath she'd been holding. _I'm really beginning to like that Wookiee!_

"One minute…."

From inside the main chamber came a single voice calling the troops to attention. It was followed by the loud snap of booted heels ringing against the flagstones.

"…and _go_."

Leia fell in behind General Dodonna as he moved through the short entrance passage and out onto the stage. She followed and then continued forward until she stopped at the top of the long flight of stone stairs that lead up to the stage, while he stepped to the side to join the rest of the Command personnel to her flanks.

A moment later, as planned, the large metal doors to the hanger slid open and the distinctive figures of the heroic trio stepped into view. They began walking the long aisle that was cleared through the amassed troops, and despite that sourness in the pit of her empty stomach, Leia found her practiced smile growing more genuine as they drew closer. Never mind all the politics and manipulation and broader message this event was about; to her they _were_ heroes, every one of them, and they looked the part.

Luke had arrived on the Rebel base without possessions just as she had and, from the looks of it, he'd chosen to raid Solo's closet. With the defunct Spacer's Guild Bloodstripe down the outer seam of his pants and a low-slung blaster on his hip replacing the pale desert garb, the young man from Tatooine looked quite different. But despite herself, Leia's eyes were irresistibly drawn to the Corellian.

Solo hadn't done much at all to change his appearance. As he neared she could see that he had indeed changed clothes—his white shirt was more formal, with a sealed-up collar, and he'd made some effort to polish his tall boots. In the end, he looked the same roguish spacer she'd met in the narrow laser-ridden corridors on the _Death Star_.

_I take it back. He's combed his hair._

As she studied Han's approaching figure, she realized with a slight jolt that he was studying her, too. Without even knowing why, Leia's pulse quickened. It was a ridiculous reaction—she'd made countless public appearances in her young life already and was quite used to being the center of attention—and yet suddenly she felt a flush rising up the back of her neck and into her ears.

Chewie and Luke continued glancing around as if still in awe of the proceedings, but Solo stared straight ahead at her, unwavering, zeroing in like one of those targeting computers. As the trio drew close, she could detect just the hint of a smile from the Corellian. It wasn't the sort of broad grin he might have given Luke, or a truly happy and carefree one like she'd seen in that celebration immediately post-battle. It was a subtle brightening of his eyes, as if he were sharing some inside joke with her. As if he'd enjoyed surprising her at the last second.

_I don't understand this man. That makes him dangerous._

Before she could explore that unsettling thought, the trio arrived at the foot of the stairs beneath her. Luke and Han advanced up and stopped on the step just below her, with Chewbacca just behind. Mustering her best royal bearing, she gave them each a slight nod of formal recognition. Luke's face was alight with unabashed excitement, and Chewie looked as affable as it was possible for a Wookiee to look. But it was Han's penetrating gaze that made Leia look away. As she did so, she caught Luke's eye and gladly met his beaming smile with her own. Luke she understood. Already it was like she'd known him for years, she felt so at ease in his presence.

She turned to Dodonna to retrieve the first medal, then faced Solo squarely and waited for him to bow. He lingered a shade long, as if deliberately to tweak her, all the while still giving her that intense look, before bowing low enough for her to slip the ribbon around his neck. As he straightened upright, she quickly adjusted the medal and glanced up to find his eyes locked back on hers. Funny, she'd never really noticed how they were more of a hazel than dark brown. _It must be the lighting in here_ ,she thought _._ In that moment of distraction, Han suddenly winked at her, his smile broadening.

That flush she'd felt earlier surged again and she blamed it on the flash of irritation she felt at his cheekiness. _He really can't help himself, can he?!_

She repeated the motions of presenting Luke with his medal, and then took a moment to recover her poise as the two men sketched awkward bows in unison. Finished, she gave them one last obvious look of approval, then the trio turned around to face their audience. For better or worse, all of them were now forever linked in the public eye.


	7. The Propaganda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to our lovely beta readers: CorieMariee, BonesBooth206, YellinYee, and Marjorie Joyce.

"Would it kill you to smile?" Leia hissed at Han through gritted teeth.

Han rolled his eyes at how she managed to berate him while keeping her own bright smile intact for the holocam. The machine hovered in front of them, clicking and whirring as it drifted from one angle to another capturing their images for the Alliance's cause. Immediately following the brief ceremony, as the assembled troops dispersed to resume their evacuation duties in earnest, Dodonna had instructed Leia and the honorees to remain on the stage for a few additional propaganda shots. Luke and Chewbacca had cheerfully complied, Han noted with some distaste. Han was feeling anything but cheerful about it. His gut told him that the Princess wasn't enjoying the posing, either, but he didn't have a fraction of her patience or tolerance for this sort of nonsense.

"I'm done smiling, Your Worship," he informed her under his breath. "This is your little party."

"You know very well," Leia paused, squared off and nearly grimacing up at him while holding his medal out as if to admire it, while the little holocam droid gave another audible whir and click, letting the medal drop to thud against his chest the instant the holocam was done, "that this was not my idea."

As the holocam floated higher and drifted slightly further away for a wider shot, Luke seemed to pick a side. "It's not that bad, Han," he chided. "It'll be over soon. Anyway, it's for a good cause."

Han let that pass without comment but then Chewbacca joined in.

«I think you are enjoying this much more than you admit. The Princess seems _very_ impressed with you.»

Han glared up at Chewie, not sure whether that was an honest observation or a mocking jab.

"What did he say?" Luke asked.

Irritably, Han waved the kid off, but then Threepio shuffled forward and began to translate the Wookiee's words. "Chewbacca says—"

"Alright, that's it," Solo barked, stepping out of his assigned place. "We're done here."

"No," Leia interrupted, gesturing at the protocol droid, "Threepio, I want to know what Chewbacca said. I'm tired of these one-way conversations."

"I'll tell you what he said," Han interjected with a sneer, disregarding the droid's indignant reaction. "He said it's time for us to get the hell out of here and pay off Jabba the Hutt before every bounty hunter between here and Coruscant tracks us down."

Han ignored Chewbacca's chuff of warning and the subsequent looks of surprise from his companions.

"There's a bounty on your head?" Leia's voice rose as high as her eyebrows. "Why didn't you _say_ something?"

"Jabba the Hutt?" Luke exclaimed at the same time, clearly recognizing the name.

Han scowled at both of them and didn't answer. He could have kicked himself. Sharing that little tidbit of news had not been intentional. Not only was the bounty worrisome in its own right, but it was also an increasingly sore point between himself and his copilot. The last thing he wanted was the kid and the princess getting involved, too.

The media droid whirred to a stop and Han watched with relief as it sank down to the floor at the feet of one of the Communications officers. He let out the sort of heavy exhalation usually reserved for the sorely oppressed. He suspected the last few images would not be included in the public release, if their current expressions were any indication of the sudden shift in mood. "Come on, Chewie."

He turned and marched down the flight of stone stairs and headed back the way he'd come, not bothering to check if Chewbacca was following. He'd done his bit. He'd given them what they'd asked for, and then some. But he wasn't one of them. He couldn't afford to be.

As Han passed through the archway and back out into the main hangar bay, he was engulfed in the hustling traffic of hazardously loaded trolleys and crate lifts that were moving from the various corridors that branched off from the main chamber to awaiting transport ships. Despite himself, Han looked around with a growing awareness that there weren't enough cargo ships. Certainly not enough to conduct a complete evacuation in one go and under the pressing deadline these rebels faced. They would run out of time and either face another battle as a fleet of Imperial star destroyers arrived or be forced to sacrifice precious supplies and equipment they couldn't afford to lose.

_See, that's why you should just walk away now. You're already getting sucked in. These guys are just barely getting by, and you'll end up going down with them._

A corner of his mouth twitched at the thought and he headed with more determination toward the beckoning silhouette of the _Falcon_ in the far corner. Sure, his ship could probably haul double what one of those pokey troop transports could handle. But that wasn't the point.


	8. The Negotiation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to our lovely beta readers: CorieMariee, BonesBooth206, YellinYee, and Marjorie Joyce.

Chewbacca caught up with Han just as he reached the _Falcon_ , and the two of them walked a quick circuit beneath the freighter. Although he grudgingly admitted that they'd taken almost no damage from the sortie against the _Death Star_ , there remained laser scorings from the TIE fighter picket ships they'd faced during their initial escape.

"I should charge them for the damage," he grumbled.

«You can speak to the princess about that,» Chewie rumbled.

"Rhetorical statement," Han groused. "I'd have better luck getting a kiss from Her Highness than getting any more credits."

«No, I mean you can ask her right now. She's behind you.»

Han spun around to see the princess, still dressed in the stunning finery he'd left her in minutes ago on the stage, come to a stop a meter away, her expression suddenly unsure. In that white dress she almost seemed to glow in the dim light of the bay.

"Let me guess…," Han ventured, deliberately eyeing her up and down and ignoring the fact that she'd obviously overheard him. He recognized in her expression that same mixture of reluctance and need, of conflicting desires to either avoid him or approach him. Before he could finish his snide comment, she moved closer and spoke.

"I wanted to thank you. Both of you," she amended as her gaze flickered briefly to the Wookiee before resettling on Han. "For what you did tonight."

Any snappy retort he'd planned died mid-thought. The last thing he'd expected was this sort of disarming honesty. Again he was left wondering if she wasn't the sort of cold and calculating politician he'd expected her to be—or if she was even better than he'd imagined. Either way, he suddenly felt out of his depth. For the second time that day, she was approaching him with her banners lowered, setting aside her ego and seeking peace. He had to admire her for that. He gave a curt nod.

"You're welcome."

As if taking some encouragement from his agreeable response, she continued. "For everything."

Han nodded again, sensing that there was more coming, but she appeared hesitant now, as if choosing her words. He decided to spare her, and jumped to the obvious conclusion. "You don't have enough transports."

She assessed him for a long, silent moment. He'd correctly read her hidden agenda, and he could tell that she knew it. She wasn't the only one present who knew the game of negotiation.

"Yes. We need your help. Your cargo space would be invaluable."

"Maybe, but it _has_ a value," he informed her. "Cargo space is going to cost you. I'm not running a charity here." Although his words were abrupt, his tone was level. This was business and there was no room for emotions.

She nodded, her eyes not leaving his own, despite the fact that he could see a hint of frustration beginning to show. "If that's what you'd prefer. We're prepared to pay you."

Han considered this proposal, weighing all the many cons against the few pros. He looked over his shoulder to Chewbacca, whose quick and enthusiastic hoot ruined any hope of his dragging this out any longer. He turned back and decided to push his luck. "Ten thousand, or it ain't worth the risk."

Leia Organa looked on the verge of a protest, some color rising into her pale cheeks, which he could spot despite the poor lighting. But she appeared to swallow any outrage and instead agreed in a tight tone, "Very well."

"Okay. Where to?"

"We can't tell you that until you're ready for the jump."

Now it was Han's turn to feel frustration, even though this was a common security step, particularly for underground groups like this; keeping covert contacts and base locations on a strict need-to-know basis made sense. But it didn't mean he had to be happy about it. There was little worse, in his experience, than flying blind. "All right. We'll do it."

He was expecting some show of happiness or victory out of the princess, but all he saw was fatigue, and what he suspected was a measure of relief. "I'll let the Deck Officer know and he'll begin assigning cargo to your ship." She started to turn away, to return to wherever she'd come from, but she hesitated and gazed back up at him. "Thank you."

Once again Han was left feeling disarmed, a sensation that was rapidly becoming commonplace in his interactions with this woman and her friends. He watched as she walked away and eventually disappeared through the stone passageway, his thoughts not nearly as clear as he preferred them to be. Whatever had just happened and whatever this new arrangement was, it was _not_ business as usual.


	9. The Evacuation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to our lovely beta readers: CorieMariee, BonesBooth206, YellinYee, and Marjorie Joyce.

Han and Chewie barely had time to work out a strategy before Rebels were swarming around the _Millennium Falcon_ , unloading crates of equipment and supplies from the various trolleys that pulled up. Han stood alongside Deck Officer Tibbert—a middle-aged man whom Han had learned originally hailed from Dantooine—at the base of the forward freight elevator, holding his own datapad in hand and using a diagram of his freighter to most effectively load the _Falcon_ to her full capacity. They'd worked together to plan the order of cargo, loading priority items last so they would be the first offloaded after arriving at the new base.

Within a short span of time, the holds and the circular corridor that ringed the inside were lined with freight, leaving nothing but narrow passageways between the stacked boxes and a small oasis of space in the main hold that allowed access to the engineering station, kitchenette, holochess table, and engine access pit. Despite the precious cargo space lost by these arrangements, Han had been flying the _Falcon_ long enough to have learned his lesson about blocking access to her vitals. As it was, she was loaded past standard capacity and this would have to do.

"That should be it," Tibbert announced as he checked off the last crate from the spreadsheet on his own datapad. "It looks like everything's found a berth somewhere now. Your ship is a lifesaver."

Han nodded his head toward the row of transports. "How soon are they leaving?"

"We still have two more to load, but the last of the Command staff is about to board and head out. We're lucky enough to have a new base location waiting so we're not forced to gather somewhere in deep space indefinitely, like last time."

That possibility hadn't even occurred to Han, but it sounded like a special kind of hell and he repressed a shudder. He guessed he was lucky, indeed.

"Is Red Group still out?" Han asked, gesturing broadly to indicate the space around the moon on which they stood. He hadn't seen Skywalker since shortly after the awards ceremony, but he'd heard from Chewie that Luke and Wedge—the only two remaining members of the squadron—had been dispatched, along with the lone survivor of Gold Group, to fly continuous shifts of protection, in case the Imperials turned up before they could complete the evacuation.

"As far as I know," Tibbert responded. "And will be until we're all clear. We don't want to be caught on the ground."

"Yeah."

"Alright, time to start loading the next one." Tibbert reached out a friendly hand. "Nice to meet you, Solo. Glad to have you on board. I'll see you on the other side."

"Same here," Han responded and shook the man's hand. As he watched the officer hop onto the last trolley before it motored away down the flight line, Han mulled over the brief conversation they'd had throughout the loading job. Tibbert had seemed very welcoming, and either genuinely ignorant of Han's temporary status or carefully avoiding it. In either case, the Rebel had gone out of his way to make sure Han had felt at ease. Indeed, all of the Alliance personnel he'd encountered so far had seemed exceptionally open, straightforward, and friendly. It made him feel uneasy.

Han sighed and stabbed at the screen of his datapad, closing the image of the ship diagram and pulling up his financial sheet. Ten thousand credits was exorbitant and he'd known that when he'd quoted to the princess what it would cost to hire him. He supposed his intention had been to tweak her—to get that rise out of her that seemed so easy to do. He hadn't really believed she would go for it, instead expecting her to haggle or flat-out refuse. Instead, with little more than that flash in her dark eyes and the smudge of red that emerged on her cheeks, she'd given him exactly what he'd asked for. And yet for some reason he wasn't satisfied.

_Stop letting her get to you. You can do a lot with ten thousand. This should be easy._

Han shut off his datapad and hit the control panel on the freight elevator to start it moving upward one final time. Then he began a quick preflight inspection under the ship. It was then that his attention was drawn to a group of uniformed Command Center staff that had appeared at the edge of the hangar bay and were making their way toward one of the awaiting troop transports. As they began boarding, he spotted the petite figure of Princess Leia. She'd dismantled her elaborate hairstyle in favor of a simple wrap of braids, and she was once again in those rather unflattering military fatigues that were light years away from the elegant white gown she'd worn earlier. _That's a real shame_.

Before he had time to consider where that unwanted thought had come from, he saw the princess step off to the side and pause, allowing the personnel behind her to continue into the ship. Then suddenly, as if making some abrupt decision, she spoke to General Dodonna for a few moments, gestured in the direction of Han and his ship, and then turned away and started walking in his direction, cutting across the flight line. She was carrying a single black duffle bag in one hand, and looked like she knew exactly where she was going.

Han watched as she neared, and only when she walked right past him and started up the _Falcon_ 's ramp did he finally speak, stopping her. "Hey, where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going with you," she informed him, pausing midway up the ramp to give him a level gaze.

Han gaped for only a second, then pointed at her bag. "And what's that? Are you planning on moving in?"

"In your dreams, flyboy. I'm the collateral." Her tone was dry, but he could swear there was a hint of a smile in her dark eyes.

Han snorted, suddenly enjoying this surprising banter coming from her. "So what's to stop me taking off with _you_?"

"I've got a blaster and I know how to use it." With that, she continued up the ramp and disappeared inside his ship.

Han smirked. _Definitely beginning to like her_.


	10. The Refuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to our lovely beta readers: CorieMariee, BonesBooth206, YellinYee, and Marjorie Joyce.

The _Millennium Falcon_ was no luxury cruise ship or state-of-the-art freighter. She ran loud, even on her best day, and it was only a matter of degrees as to whether her purring sublight and hyperdrive engines were running well or struggling. To Han's attuned ear, she was having one of her better days, and he was satisfied with the relative quiet.

He and Chewie had remained in the cockpit while awaiting the transmission from Flight Control of their hyperjump coordinates, and then after making the jump, to privately talk, or—to be more accurate—argue about what their next course of action would be after this new job was finished.

Predictably, Chewbacca had insisted that they ought to take the ten thousand credits, along with their reward, and go straight back to Tatooine to deal with Jabba before the business of the bounty on Han's head could get any worse. Except Han wasn't convinced that would be the best use of his money. A new full-spectrum sensor suite, he had argued, could turn out to be a better investment. If they could maximize profits, he could not only pay off Jabba, but maybe they could actually get ahead for once. There was also the matter of their current employment. If the Rebel Alliance wanted to pay him outrageous sums to haul their freight, he was happy to let them do it for as long as it lasted. Now that the credits were flowing a bit more freely, he didn't see the need to hurry back to pay off the Hutt. In fact, he rather enjoyed making the slimy crime lord wait. In the end, they had tabled the discussion and he'd left Chewie in the cockpit to mull things over while he headed back to make some hot kaffe.

Han made his way around the ship, checking that none of the cargo had shifted or come loose in the hyperjump and stopping along the way to peer into the rear and forward holds for the same purpose. Satisfied that everything had remained secure, he stopped in the small open area that remained in the main hold, double-checked the hyperdrive indicators at the engineering station, and continued on into the kitchenette to start the pot of fresh kaffe. It was going to be a while yet, due to the relatively short duration of their journey, before they got a chance to bunk in.

As Han waited for his drink to brew, he belatedly realized what was wrong. Things were _too_ quiet. He'd forgotten that they had a passenger. He stuck his head back into the main hold proper, thinking maybe Leia had been sitting at the holochess table and he'd somehow walked right past her, but one glance was enough to tell him she was nowhere in the hold.

_That's weird. She must be in the fresher._

He went back to his drink, poured mugs for himself and Chewie, then stepped back into the shrunken common area. The princess had not yet appeared. With a shrug, he headed back toward the cockpit. It wasn't like there was anywhere else she could go. They were packed into the _Falcon_ like preserved Tesal fish, and she was bound to turn up eventually.

Thirty minutes later, when Han realized that the princess had yet to come forward to visit them in the cockpit, he began to wonder what was going on. He supposed there was the possibility she just preferred to keep things on a strictly business-only level—it wouldn't be the first time he'd had customers who preferred that sort of arrangement. Only he hadn't gotten that vibe from Leia. She'd seemed comfortable enough hanging out and chatting in the _Falcon_ 's cockpit only that morning when they'd escaped the _Death Star—_ well, at least until their little exchange of words regarding payment. In fact, she'd struck him as being the sort of person who enjoyed space travel—something he had _not_ expected.

Using the excuse of wanting a second cup, Han stopped in the main hold before making another quick circuit around the passageways, this time taking an extra moment to poke his head into the bunkroom. The three bunks were empty and the door to the fresher was open.

_Okay, you're not going crazy. You saw her enter the ship and sealed up after her. There was no hull breach. She's got to be around here somewhere._

Han returned to the cockpit just as Chewbacca was climbing out of the copilot's seat.

"Hey, while you're back there, see if you can find the princess."

«What do you mean?»

"I thought it was way too quiet so I looked around, but there's no sign of her. Unless you want to explain to the Rebel High Command how we lost her Royal Highness…."

«Good point,» the Wookiee agreed as he left the cockpit. He was back within minutes.

«You'd better take a look, Solo.»

Chewbacca led Han to the forward portside hold and pointed down a narrow passage between the stacks to a dark corner created by an oddly shaped cargo container. The two of them exchanged a brief look of concern before Han took a tentative step forward and peered into the shadows around the corner.

There she was, seated upright with her back against the bulkhead and leaning against the crate, her knees drawn up into a tight hug and her head bowed. For a moment he thought she might have fallen asleep like that, but then he saw her shift a booted foot as she attempted to curl up into an even tighter ball.

Han drew back and hesitated over what to do. Common sense told him to leave her to her own devices and return to the cockpit—it was none of his business, and they would reach the now-revealed destination of the Rebel base on Serricci soon enough.

He exchanged another look with Chewbacca and changed his mind. They were partners and friends for a reason. The Wookiee gestured for Han to withdraw.

«Get her some kaffe. I'll be right back.»

Han returned to the kitchenette as Chewbacca disappeared down the ring corridor. When he returned to the tight passage that led into the portside hold, Chewie was already there, holding a threadbare blanket and a cushion from one of the relief bunks.

Han handed him the steaming mug and edged around the corner of the stack. Leia was still there, still motionless. He said in a gentle voice, "Hey. Want some kaffe? Something stronger?"

She turned her head to look up and fixed him with a hollow gaze. For an instant Han wasn't entirely sure that she even recognized him, but it might have been the bad lighting. Then there seemed to be a slight shift in her expression and she gave a slight nod. "Just kaffe."

Han twisted around, and Chewie, who was ready with the cup, passed it over. Then he followed it up with the cover and pillow. Han gave the Wookiee the flash of a smile that was both grateful and teasing. _So much for Leia's "walking carpet."_

Han squatted down to her level, set the mug on the deck in front of her, and then handed over the rest. "We'll make planetfall in about three hours. Chewie's going to cook something before then if you're interested."

"Thank you."

He met her eyes for as long as she allowed, until she bowed her head again. He stood up then, intending to head back toward the main hold, but something he had seen in her eyes kept him rooted to the spot, hands braced on his hips, his initial feeling of concern giving way to a broader fuming. He'd seen that desolate look before, in the faces of slaves and others who had lost everything to the predations of the Empire. It never failed to enrage him.

The naked pain on her face spoke of what she'd lost, but it also reminded him that she was human, and he realized this was the second time within the span of a few hours he'd discovered her in a similar condition aboard his ship. She'd had no time to recover, to mourn, or even to rest, and it didn't take a mind shrinker to figure out she was reaching some sort of breaking point. Maybe she was finding some measure of tranquility within the confines of the old freighter, and if so, he could appreciate that. The _Falcon_ had been his own refuge for years.

He regarded her hunched figure for another long moment, and then turned to follow Chewie out, leaving her in peace. She would come find them when she was ready.


	11. The Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to our lovely beta readers: CorieMariee, BonesBooth206, YellinYee, and Marjorie Joyce.

The verdant green of the thick Serricci jungle seemed to swallow up the _Millennium Falcon_ as it came to rest on a circular offshoot of the terraformed tarmac of the Rebel base's airfield. From where Han and Chewie looked out through the cockpit canopy, they could see nothing but vine-covered trees, the rest of the base being hidden around the sharp corners at the end of their assigned berth. The landing spot had become known as theirs in the time that had passed since the base was established, and the Rebels routinely left it vacant in anticipation of the _Falcon_ 's return, a fact that Han still wasn't entirely comfortable with.

 _Routine._ It was really the last thing Han Solo had wanted or expected. Nevertheless, that's exactly what seemed to be happening to himself and Chewie. What had started out as a single evacuation haul from Yavin IV had evolved into a series of smuggling runs, each one at the urging of the Princess, for which she grudgingly negotiated his pay. Easy money, he called it. Sometimes it was shuttling supplies and personnel between Rebellion factions, other times it was picking up basic supplies from ports closer to the Core. Whatever it was, though, she kept finding reasons to hire him and he kept finding excuses to accept.

In between those missions, during the downtimes, Han was more susceptible to a growing sense of restlessness, of worry, but he was finding ways of directing that energy into other activities. Sometimes it was working on the _Falcon_ , but that could be expensive and he was trying very hard to save up his credits. So instead he had started pitching in around the base, whether it was with the erection of another structure, clearing away the ever-encroaching jungle around them or helping out with the service maintenance of the new flight of X-wings the Rebels had acquired shortly after establishing the base. The ships were the latest model and Han was just as eager as the rest of the pilots and service crews to pore over the slight differences, which dovetailed with his strengthening friendship with Skywalker.

His friendship with Leia, however, was far more complicated. In the developing pattern, things were pretty straightforward with the kid. Luke would occasionally tease him about accepting the standing offer of a commission already, which Han comfortably waved off as an impediment to the freedom he required for his line of business, and that was usually enough for Luke. With the princess, however, those comments didn't feel lighthearted; they felt serious and too personal at times, both because of the threat to his independence and because of her response after each rejection. What might have started as an offhanded suggestion in the middle of a conversation usually turned pointed and she would march off, after which he could look forward to a cold shoulder for a little while. That was becoming routine as well.

One habit he didn't mind so much was the fact that, with Leia beginning to take on the duties of an ad hocquartermaster and procurer, she was usually there to greet them after every smuggling run, an increasingly attractive welcoming committee of one. Interestingly though, that routine appeared to have been broken this time.

"Weird," Han muttered to himself as he peered around at the clearing they'd landed in. "Usually somebody's around to meet us."

«You mean the Princess.»

Han tossed his friend the quickest of scowls as he climbed out of his seat. "No. I mean _any_ body."

«We are early. They obviously weren't expecting us back so soon.»

"Probably. Finish shutting her down while I take a look around and report in."

Moments later Han was stepping down the _Falcon_ 's ramp and into the oppressive humidity and heat of the Serricci summertime. That sensation never failed to make him groan and, not for the first time, he questioned whether the Rebel Alliance deliberately sought out the least hospitable places to hide. As an afterthought, he paused to strip off his flight jacket and toss it back up into the main hold for Chewie to pick up, then continued down onto the tarmac. Not that it did much good; by the time he'd reached the first of the outliers of the Rebels' structures that bordered the main flight line, his long-sleeved white shirt felt plastered to his back with sweat.

The cooled air that hit him as he stepped into the Command Center's building was blissful, and he paused a moment to close his eyes and blow out a heavy breath. He opened them again just in time to notice the appreciative stare of a pretty blonde Rebel seated at one of the stations that lined the main corridor. He winked at her as he passed, intrigued but undeterred. He was looking for Her Highness.

It only took him a few minutes to realize she wasn't in the War Room, or in any of the adjoining offices, rooms, or hallways. He supposed, though, that he should make his arrival official anyway, even if he couldn't find Leia, so he spared a moment in his search to give General Dodonna a quick word about his mission. It had gone off without a hitch, and he'd also returned with a hold full of fresh produce and other basics. The general promised to dispatch a crew to off-load it all as soon as possible. Han then took his leave, but hesitated on his way to the door, then turned back.

"Any idea where I could find the Princess?"

"I believe she's gone out for a run."

 _Out for a run?_ Han wondered as he headed back outside. He shouldn't have been surprised by the concept—she struck him as being in very fit condition—but it was something he'd never actually seen her do.

Maybe Luke was around.

With some reluctance to leave the cool interior, Han stepped back out into the clearing where the structure sat exposed to the sun and headed toward the landing area where the X-wings of the newly formed Rogue Flight were usually parked. Currently, he saw, the ships were gone, and that meant no Luke.

Giving up on meeting with either one of his friends, Han headed back toward the clearing where the _Falcon_ was hidden. Chewie was waiting for him and already had the freight elevator loaded and lowered.

"The General's sending over some deckhands to help unload."

«Good. I feel like going out hunting.»

"Yeah, go on. I'll take it from here."

In contrast to Han's feelings on the matter, the Wookiee seemed almost content with the pattern they'd fallen into. Chewie possessed a heart that was probably too big for their line of business, and he was all-too-enthusiastic about helping the Rebellion as much as he could; as a Wookiee, he had more reason than most to hate the Empire. And although he never let Han forget that they had a very serious obligation still hanging over their heads, Chewie was probably the only being on base who relished this miserable location; he already had his bowcaster strapped across his back, and Han knew he was about to disappear into the thick foliage for hours.

As Chewie lumbered off towards the nearest tree line, Han reentered the _Falcon_ and headed for his bunkroom. He changed into a short-sleeved shirt made of lighter fabric, and swung by the kitchenette to lift a four-pack of ale from the chiller. Returning outdoors, Han raised the laden freight elevator just high enough to create a platform, and then sat on the edge. Pulling one of the ale canisters from the four-pack, he popped it open and settled in to wait for the deckhands to arrive.

With his mind wandering, his thoughts soon turned to finding ways to occupy himself during this latest downtime. He supposed it was safe to assume both the princess and the kid would seek him out soon enough when they got back.

That was the only truly redeeming part of this routine, as far as he was concerned. When Leia wasn't in recruitment mode or running around like a crazed Greeper trying to assist with the everyday operations of a military base, she could be a lively and sharp-witted companion with a sense of humor that matched his own. Luke, too, was good company. While the kid's unrelenting optimism could be a bit much at times, Han couldn't help but be reminded of himself at that age and in his early days in the Academy. Han genuinely liked both of them, and he knew Chewie did, too.

His thoughts were interrupted as a trolley transport emerged from around the corner and trundled up to his ship to pull alongside. It was driven by one of the new recruits, with Deck Officer Tibbert riding on the side.

"Hey!" Han called out as they stepped down and walked over. "Brought a few crates of fresh supplies. Thought you guys could use them."

"You'd better believe it," Tibbert admitted. "I think the canteen crew is running out of ideas with those ration packs."

"Oh, and there's a bottle of Corellian Reserve here for you two."

"Solo, once again you are my hero!" Tibbert exclaimed, tossing a knowing look to his underling, his blond mustache curling up at both ends into a wide smile.

Han rolled his eyes, taking the praise as the sort of bravado comment he'd come to expect from this Rebel. Tibbert was one of the good ones.

"Just keep it down—I didn't bring enough for everybody."

Han dropped down from the platform, reached to pick up two of the remaining ale flasks and handed one each to the two deckhands before he finished lowering the lift to the ground. "Take it away."

He stepped out of their way to watch as the two men used a repulsor dolly to maneuver the crates around and onto the trolley. He took another swig of ale, enjoying how thirst-quenching it tasted in this heat, then he spotted movement at the far end of the clearing. He recognized that it was Leia running in his direction. That fact alone was enough to make him pause—except for on the _Death Star_ when they'd been running for their lives, he'd never seen her move at more than a purposeful stride. He was also intrigued by the sight of her in running gear. She was dressed in cropped leggings, a snug white tank top that bared her midriff, and grippy running shoes, with her long hair pulled back into a single thick braid that disappeared down her back. He'd never seen her trim and petite figure on such display, and he remained entranced by the sight as she quickly approached.

As she neared, however, he got the sense that something wasn't quite right. Her skin was glistening and she looked flushed, which was to be expected, but she looked like she'd been out in the heat too long, and then he noticed there were scratches on her legs and arms, and numerous snags in her clothing. Now mildly alarmed, Han lowered his bottle and started walking toward her to meet her outside the shade of the _Falcon_ where she'd stopped by the trolley.

"Sorry I'm late, Captain!" she gasped as she began reading over the labels on the crates.

Han stared at her, taking in her breathlessness and the little trickle of blood that was coming from a shallow scratch on her cheek and was mingling with her sweat. Loose tendrils of her dark hair were plastered to her cheeks and along the exposed skin of her neck. She looked crazed, like she'd just taken a pell-mell crashing run through the jungle. "Are you okay?"

She blinked up at him, chest still heaving, and nodded her head. "Of course, I'm fine." She started walking around the crates being unloaded, as if nothing odd were happening.

Han was glad to see that Tibbert and his helper were just as surprised by the Princess's exceptional appearance as he was. It _wasn't_ just him. He'd seen crazed looks like that before, but only from people who'd been running _from_ something.

"You don't _look_ fine."

She stopped her inspection and shot him a frown. "I'm _fine_."

Han held up his hands, one of them still holding his flask, in defense. "Whatever you say, Your Worship."

That earned him a decidedly heated glare, as he knew it would. Lately he'd started testing out the occasional ridiculous title whenever he thought she was overdoing the royal personage thing. It had made her face him again, though, which was the point.

"You look like a Gundark's been chasing you through the woods. You're bleeding."

She opened her mouth as if to say something, then paused and glanced at the two deckhands before looking back at him. "I'm fine," she repeated yet again, although some of that knee-jerk defensiveness had begun to relax. And she must have known exactly what he was referring to because her hand rose to touch the reddened scratch on her cheek and she saw the blood as she drew her fingers away. "It was nothing. A branch."

"You went running _in the jungle_?" he asked, not bothering to hide his incredulity now.

She drew herself up a little—not that it made much difference when he stood easily a head taller than her—and lifted her chin, some of that self-awareness already falling back into place as her breathing pattern slowed to normal. "There's a path. It's the only place I can go to get away from everything for a little while."

Han nodded his understanding of that impulse. "Well, you're welcome to hide out in the _Falcon_ any time you want."

She hesitated long enough to determine whether or not he was teasing. "You weren't here."

Han eyed her for a long moment. He wasn't sure how to interpret that statement, but the conversation suddenly felt far more personal than he'd intended. He shrugged, dropping the subject. Instead he pointed at the large crates the crew were beginning to load onto the trolley as he followed her into the relatively cooler shade of the _Falcon_ 's closest front mandible. "Found some good deals on fresh surplus supplies. You can just tack it onto the bill for the next run."

Her dark eyes flickered up at him at the mention of a next run, but before he could capture her gaze and hold it, she nodded. "Very well. Thank you for taking advantage of the opportunity."

"It's what I do best," he responded with a smooth smile. Acting on an impulse, he swooped down to snag the last canister of ale off the freight elevator, popped it open, and offered it to her. "Here."

She started to reject it. "No, I'm—"

"Off duty. Drink it."

Leia's eyes lingered on the cool flask coated in condensation, then on him, then the tempting drink again. Without another word, she took it and tipped back a healthy swig.

And for the first time since she'd appeared out of breath in front of him, he was able to appreciate the view better. The little trickle of blood aside, it was easy to imagine other reasons—far more enjoyable ones—for why she might look this way. He smiled, then threw back the last of his own ale. _You can keep dreaming, buddy._

Leia let out a heavy sigh, seeming to have finally fully caught her breath back. She watched Tibbert and his helper continue their work, while Han continued watching her.

"Was that fresh Kavasa fruit I saw in there? I'm looking forward to that, if there's enough to go around."

"There's plenty," Han assured her. "In fact, I kept some back for me and Chewie, so you can have one now if you want."

She cast a glance of approval in his direction. "Hmm. Maybe next time I'll ask you to get some just for me."

"Anything you want, I can probably get for you. And maybe if I'm feeling generous, I won't even charge you for it."

She gave him a half-sweet, half-sour look at that.

"You must have quite the private store," she observed.

"Simple self-preservation. A hungry Wookiee can be a real pain in the ass," Han informed her. "And that mess hall slop you have every night may keep you alive, but it ain't exactly a pleasure to eat."

A faint smile touched Leia's lips as she lifted the flask of ale for another sip. She didn't argue with that, he noticed.

"Where is Chewie, anyway?" Leia asked, squinting against the afternoon sun.

"Hunting," Han gestured towards the tree line. "He likes that sort of thing, and he's pretty good at bagging fresh meat for dinner whenever he goes out. Gives us something else to go with this stuff."

"You boys certainly like your food," she remarked, plucking absentmindedly at the front of her snug top to lift it away from her skin.

"You'd like it, too," Han told her, trying to keep his eyes on her face. He was becoming increasingly distracted by the sight of her flushed skin and the tiny trickle of perspiration that was making its way down from the hollow of her throat to disappear between her breasts. "It beats the hell out of larded neutrino, or whatever they're serving down there."

"And who cooks these amazing meals? You?"

"Yeah, me. Don't sound so surprised, Your Worship. I'm not half-bad. It's something to do during long hyperjumps."

Leia's eyes met his for a moment, her expression a mixture of curiosity and mild irritation at his irreverent form of address. She also didn't look terribly convinced by his claim. On impulse, he decided to prove it to her. "Come here for dinner tonight. See for yourself."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly. But thank you." The polite reply was reflexive, a practiced response that made Han wonder how often she had to turn down similar offers. She turned her head to watch again as Tibbert and his companion moved around to begin loading up the other side of the trolley transport.

"Why not? You got boots to shine? Uniforms to press?" he jeered. "Or does Dodonna never give you a night off?"

Leia's expression soured then as she turned back to face him, and he could see that his gibe had slightly overstepped the mark. He made up for it by giving her his most charming smile.

"You'd have to clean yourself up first, obviously. You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards."

"Gee, thanks." She rolled her eyes at him, but her faint smile was back.

"And you know we have a real water shower…" Han reminded her. On the journey from the _Death Star_ to Yavin IV, they had all used the _Falcon_ 's facilities to rinse off their excursion through the trash masher. Hot water showers were a rare starship luxury and he was quite proud of that particular upgrade.

"Mmm," she said noncommittally. She took another drink from the flask and fixed him with a meaningful look. "But I haven't said yes yet."

Han spared a moment to reassess her. He'd half-expected her to coquettishly demure at best or flat-out refuse at worst, but instead she was teasing him back. Maybe it wasn't so much the offer she was worried about, but how it would probably look to others if she spent an evening on his ship alone with him. And Chewie.

"Bring the kid with you, if you can find him. He was still out with the squadron when I looked for him earlier. Chewie'll be back in a couple of hours. Dinner'll be ready around eighteen hundred. I'll make some fresh Kavasa juice, and you can take a night off from eating reconstituted root mash."

Leia expression lightened a touch at the extension of the invitation to Luke, and she appeared to make up her mind. She peered up at Han with a rare, unguarded smile. "That sounds nice. I'd like that. Thank you."

Their gazes lingered until she looked away and took another drink, then they watched the deckhands wrap up their work. He was seeing an entirely new side to her and it piqued his curiosity in ways that he hadn't considered before—well, not seriously, anyway. She wasn't flirting with him, exactly—at least, not the way that some of the other women on base did. But he could read the signs, and there was definitely a suggestion of interest coming from her, although her banter seemed an odd mix of savvy politician and shy teen. He was starting to wonder if she even realized she was doing it, and he wasn't sure how to deal with that. Or even if he should.

_Don't go there. You've finally got a good gig going here. The last thing you need to do is mess it up with some new entanglement._


	12. The Leaving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to our lovely beta readers: CorieMariee, BonesBooth206, YellinYee, and Marjorie Joyce.

The rainforest where the Serricci Rebel base was hidden was living up to its name as the sky opened up yet again with another of the short rain showers that frequently occurred throughout each day. The timing was as inconvenient as ever. Leia had just finished briefing Han and Chewbacca on the smuggling run they were about to set out on. She'd intended to walk back with them to the clearing where the _Falcon_ sat hidden by the high canopy of trees, but the sudden downpour had forced them to seek cover under the relative protection of the Command Center's overhanging roof.

Leia picked at the bottom hem of her uniform blouse, debating what to say now that they'd already said their goodbyes. This was the part she hated the most, and here the weather was, dragging out the moment even longer.

While Han and Chewie were expected to return after delivering the encrypted data in the little microchip tucked safely into one of Han's pockets, it was no guarantee that they would. The hazards they faced and the increasing stress she knew they felt the longer they avoided paying back the prominent crime lord they owed a significant debt to meant that someday, sooner or later, they would not come back.

Leia fidgeted.

Chewbacca growled something, but without the fussy droid Threepio at hand, she had no clue what he was saying. She glanced at Han, but he was not forthcoming with a translation.

She sighed, unable to tell whether the rain was influencing her mood or if it just complemented what she'd been feeling since she'd learned from High Command where this latest mission would be sending Han and his partner. Any sort of trip to the Central Core planets was dangerous—even more so than usual now. It meant more heavily guarded spaceports and trafficked trade lanes and all sorts of hidden dangers to a couple of smugglers whose faces and reputations were becoming public knowledge.

Han had been right to resist that stupid awards ceremony over a month ago now. Not just because it had set a new precedent for how the High Command would expect her to act, but also for how it had effectively put a target on his back, and on Chewbacca's. The very thought of that now made her stomach churn.

But what was there to be done? Every person on base—and really within the ranks of the Rebel Alliance as a whole—had sacrificed in one way or another. Too many had already given their all. There was no room for hesitation or holding back, no option to turn and walk away. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run. They had to keep pressing forward with the only goal of winning. And so she had to keep sending them out.

She slipped a surreptitious glance up at the tall Corellian and saw that he was staring down at a growing puddle of rainwater on the tarmac. His expression was pensive, quite different from the lighthearted one she'd rather enjoyed the night before when the three of them, joined by Luke, had spent yet another late evening joking and teasing and talking. It seemed so unfair now to have to send these friends out into dangerous situations. It tore at her every time she had to watch them take off.

Leia scuffed her boot on the pavement to mask her sharp intake of breath.

The rain suddenly stopped then, just as abruptly as it had started, leaving the sharp odor of ozone and the bright glare of noontime sunlight behind. Han took a step forward, out into the light, then hesitated and turned back to face her while Chewbacca continued forward and headed down the flight line to the narrow passage in the trees where their freighter was hidden. Han found her eyes for that brief moment, and she allowed hers to linger with his, maybe a bit longer than what was normally comfortable.

He looked like he wanted to say something but was struggling. Then he looked on the verge of giving up and just turning away. She couldn't bear that.

"Good luck," she blurted out.

One corner of his mobile mouth crooked up into what she supposed was meant to be a reassuring smile and saw it contained a hint of relief as well. "Thanks. See you when we get back."

Leia nodded and watched as he turned and strode across the wet pavement to catch up with his partner.

_I really hate to see him leave._

**The End**


End file.
